Wild for Him (7 page)

“Oh God,” she said, shuddering. She came with her legs spread wide and her stomach clenched, hips bucking against his avid mouth.

After she was done, her orgasm wrenched from her like water from a dishrag, she reached for him languidly. His cock was jutting upright, leaking at the tip. She squeezed his thick shaft in approval.

“One good turn deserves another,” she said, lowering her mouth to him.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’ll come.”

“Don’t you want to?”

He watched her pump him up and down, mesmerized.

She flicked her tongue over him, licking the pearly drop at the slit. It dissolved in her mouth, salty and hot. His expression was a cross between pleasure and pain. Enjoying herself, she stretched her lips around him and swallowed as much as she could, almost gagging on his considerable length.

He made a fist in her hair to hold her still. “I might only be good for one time,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Let me fill up that sweet pussy.”

Jesus. The man had a nice cock, a silver tongue, and a rock-hard body. What more did a woman need? He let go of her hair and she released him. Lying on her back, she parted her legs. “Do it.”

He tore open a condom and rolled it down his shaft. “How do you want it?” he asked, positioning the tip against her.

She didn’t care. “However you like.”

He entered her slowly, inch by inch. “Like this?”

“Yes,” she panted, reveling in his possession. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her thighs around his waist. “More.”

He withdrew and drove in again, burying himself to the hilt. “Like that?”

“Just like that.”

He covered her mouth with his for a sex-laced kiss. It was as if he had to be inside her everywhere at once, to connect with her in as many ways as possible.

When she broke the kiss, he started to move, setting a punishing rhythm. Her breasts brushed his chest and his flesh slapped against hers as he pounded into her. The bed frame slammed into the wall with every thrust.

She loved his intensity. He worked hard for her, his shoulders bunching and the cords in his neck pulled taut. She clung to him, watching his thick length plunge in and out of her, making mindless sounds of pleasure. It was so good. She was so full of him, so enamored with the strum and drag. Her clit pulsed with new life.

“Come again,” he said, gripping her hips. “Come for me.”

She reached between their bodies to stroke herself. She stroked him, too, spreading two fingers to feel him piston inside her. Then she pressed those fingers to her clit, jiggling fast and hard to match his pace.

He couldn’t wait for her. Letting out a strangled sound, he jerked against her, his body quaking from the power of his release.

“Sorry,” he said when he’d recovered his breath. “That was way too quick.”

She laughed, kissing his relaxed mouth.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“What?”

“Keep going. It looks so hot.”

It was more embarrassing to touch herself after he’d finished, but she was so close. She resumed stroking, swirling her fingers over her sensitive clit. He felt full and fat inside her, not soft yet. She came with a startled cry, lights flashing behind her eyes and her inner muscles squeezing around him.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

She murmured something unintelligible in response. Her mind was blank, her heart pounding.

He wrapped his hand around his shaft and withdrew from her body, heading to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Then he collapsed behind her on the bed, drawing her into his arms. She would protest his sweaty embrace, but she was too satiated to move. And his body felt nice against hers.

He felt…right.

“Give me a minute, and we can try again,” he mumbled.

Seconds later, they were both asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
HE NEXT THREE
weeks went by in a blur.

Mitch had woken up in the hotel room with a sour stomach, aching muscles and a pounding head. Not to mention another raging hard-on. He’d wrestled into his clothes, trying not to disturb Gwen, and slipped out into the brutal light of dawn.

He was still sick about it.

Sick and guilty and desperate to do it again.

He’d driven straight through to Denver, torn between giddy excitement and self-loathing. He’d enjoyed her thoroughly, and not just because she was fantastic in bed. He liked her. She was sweet and sexy and smart.

She was also Helena’s best friend.

Full stop.

They had no future together. Even if he didn’t live thousands of miles away, he could never date her. He shouldn’t have fucked her.

It was easier to come to terms with the end of his relationship with Helena. They’d been drifting apart for over a year. Now that the shock had worn off, he realized that their breakup had been inevitable. The circumstances sucked, but his heartache had faded. Maybe Gwen was right, and their bond hadn’t been strong enough to last.

He was actually more upset about how he’d left things with Gwen. He’d done her wrong, and he didn’t know where to go from here.

Should he call?

He’d been torturing himself with this question for twenty-one days now. He wanted to hear her voice.

He was miserable.

His work situation sucked, too. He loved his new job and he liked Denver, but he’d been angling for a transfer back to Southern California. Now that Helena had dumped him, there was no reason to return. Was there?

The earthquake damage had helped pave the way for his transfer, ironically. San Diego was being rebuilt and the construction business was booming. There was big money to be made in structural engineering again, and his boss was looking to expand. He needed a definitive answer from Mitch about coming back.

Mitch was stuck.

If he didn’t have a chance with Gwen, why not stay in Denver? It was better to make a clean break and move on. He pictured her smiling face, remembering how she’d felt in his arms. How she’d responded to his touch.

Christ. He couldn’t get her out of his head. They’d had the hottest sex of his life. Her breathy little moans and enthusiastic touch had driven him crazy. She’d acted as if he was some kind of stud, and he’d relished every second of it.

He had to call her.

Decision made, he jumped up from his desk and took his phone outside. It was a beautiful spring day in Denver. This morning’s rain had scrubbed the streets clean and left the air pure. Now the sun was out in full force.

Denver was no San Diego—no place had better weather than San Diego. But it was crisp and clear and majestic.

Instead of calling Gwen’s cell number, he did a search for Native Ink. No one actually talked on cell phones anymore, and he didn’t want to resort to texting. It was too impersonal, too easy to ignore. He thought he’d have a better chance if he caught her off-guard. When he found the number, he entered it and hit send.

“Native Ink,” she answered, after two rings.

Score.

He already knew that the shop hadn’t been destroyed. He’d checked her web site, which had been updated with the latest information. The tattoo parlor was three miles away from the epicenter, in an area that had sustained minor damage. She was having some repairs done and planned to re-open this week.

“I’m thinking about getting a tattoo,” he said.

She paused, perhaps recognizing his voice. “Your first?”

“Yes.”

“What are you interested in?”

You
. “Maybe a life motto on my rib cage. I saw one I really liked a few weeks ago and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Now she knew it was him. “Why are you calling me, Mitch?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” she said, sounding annoyed.

Shit. He’d already screwed up. “I don’t know,” he said, faltering. “For leaving without saying goodbye. For not calling sooner. For…using you.”

“You regret it?”

“No. Do you?”

“I had a good time.”

“I remember.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. He’d meant that as a compliment—his favorite part of the evening had been watching her climax. But he couldn’t tell her that right now. She wasn’t tipsy and vulnerable, sitting next to him on a hotel bed. They hadn’t engaged in an intimate discussion or spent a couple of harrowing days together. He couldn’t just make suggestive comments and expect her to melt into a puddle. He had to try something else before she hung up on his stupid ass.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Wait—fuck. I’ll be quick, okay? Hear me out.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“I want you.”

“Mitch—”

“I want to see you again.”

“It’s a rebound thing. You’ll get over it.”

He didn’t think he would get over it. They’d made a real connection after the earthquake. Volunteering at the rescue center had been a life-changing experience for him. He felt like a new man, and Gwen was the reason.

“You were right about me and Helena,” he said. “We didn’t communicate and that’s why we fell apart. So I’m trying to reach out to you and tell you how I feel. You said it takes two, but someone has to go first.”

Although she stayed quiet, he sensed her softening. Was he on the right track?

“I called my dad last week,” he said.

“You did?”

“Yeah. We talked about football. It was weird, but…” he trailed off, his throat tightening. “He seemed glad to hear from me.”

“That’s nice,” she said quietly.

“I like you, Gwen. I liked spending time with you. I even liked volunteering at the evacuation center, and not just because you were there. It was good for me to step outside of my comfort zone.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“Say you’ll give me a chance.”

“You live in Denver.”

“I told you I might come back to San Diego. It’s looking more likely now that new construction is underway all over the city. My boss asked me if I was sure I wanted to transfer. I have to make a decision by Monday. I had to talk to you first.”

“This is crazy.”

“I can’t sleep at night. I stay up late, fantasizing about you. I think about the way you smell and the way you tasted. I’m a walking hard-on.” He let out a frustrated breath, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to his inappropriate conversation. “That was oversharing, wasn’t it? I’m still new at this.”

“You’re doing okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me more about your hard-on,” she said huskily.

He almost dropped the phone. “I’m at work.”

“So am I.”

“What are you wearing?”

She laughed at the abrupt question, and the sound filled his heart with hope. “I’m wearing a flowered dress.”

“Flowers like the one tattooed on your arm?”

“No.”

“How short is the dress?”

“Short enough.”

He contemplated talking the call into the parking lot, or a bathroom stall.

A bell chimed in the background at her shop. “The repair man is here. I have to get off.”

“What? No.”

“Bye, Mitch.”

“Hold on! Can I call you again?”

“I’ll be home tonight.”

He pumped his fist in the air. “I can’t wait.”

“You’d better,” she said, and hung up.

He stared at the phone in his hand, his pulse racing. Was she toying with him? He hadn’t convinced her to be his girlfriend. He knew that much. But she’d offered him another conversation.

An
intimate
conversation, unless he’d misunderstood her.

Damn. This was exciting.

If she wanted him to work for it, he was ready. Working hard was something he’d always excelled at. He worked hard at his job. He worked hard at the gym. It was about time he applied the same dedication to his personal life.

He’d fought for Helena and lost, maybe because he’d waited too long, and they hadn’t been right for each other anyway. With Gwen, he felt like everything fit. He wasn’t a big believer in fate, but he was struck by the overwhelming sense that they were meant to be.

He wasn’t going to let her slip away.

***

G
WEN CHECKED HER
appearance in the mirror, her stomach clenched with unease.

She was wearing a sleeveless print dress with a stretchy belt that accented her curves. Her makeup was perfect. The red lipstick set off her dark hair and honeyed skin tone. Skinny black heels gave her the boost she needed. Turning around, she considered the length of her skirt. It was short. Too short?

She favored bold styles and rarely worried about showing a lot of leg. Today she had to talk to Helena about Mitch. She wasn’t sure if she should dress down or sex it up. Maybe a more sedate outfit would make her feel less guilty.

Screw it.

Grabbing her purse off the bed, she sailed out the door before she could change her mind. She wasn’t going to turn into Suzie Homemaker or hide her body in shame. She’d slept with her friend’s ex-boyfriend and she’d enjoyed the hell out of it. She might as well look the part, like Scarlett O’Hara in that scandalous red gown.

She drove to Grape Day Park for the ceremony. Helena and her new boyfriend were receiving public service awards for their brave actions after the earthquake. They stood side-by-side on the stage next to firefighters and police officers.

Gwen’s heart swelled with pride, despite her nerves. She’d encouraged Helena to wear a slim-fitting skirt and heels with her zookeeper uniform. She looked tall and strong and beautiful. More importantly, she looked happy.

It was a lovely spring day, balmy and mild. Everyone on the stage had risked their lives to help others. The dead were honored, as well as the living.

After the ceremony, Helena and Josh separated to mingle with the crowd. Josh shook hands with everyone near him, and he seemed comfortable in the setting. Helena chatted with a few of her coworkers in a quiet, shaded area.

Gwen stepped forward as the others drifted away. Helena smiled her relief. She didn’t like parties or social events, so Gwen often “saved” her from having to interact. They stuck together and Gwen did all the talking.

The arrangement worked for Gwen, too. Helena’s statuesque figure and striking looks drew men like flies. Gwen had met a number of attractive guys simply by standing next to her and reeling them in.